


A Silent Revolution

by Dragonsigma



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:57:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsigma/pseuds/Dragonsigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man once known as Germany, now known only as Ludwig, strode diligently down the pathways that were now his only home, stretched like a spider's web beneath the lands that had once been his.<br/>He did not dare to entertain the hope that the paper in his hand might bring salvation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Silent Revolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quineviere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quineviere/gifts).



> Gift to Mochi from a while ago, thought I'd post it. My old Hetalia stuff isn't half bad.

The man once known as Germany, now known only as Ludwig, strode diligently down the pathways that were now his only home, stretched like a spider's web beneath the lands that had once been his.

He did not dare to entertain the hope that the paper in his hand might bring salvation.

The dark tunnels were bleak as ever. In a misguided attempt at bringing some shred of hope, someone had hung revolutionary banners of old along the dank walls, but this succeeded only in inspiring further depression in the deposed Nations of the world. They had lost so many; did they have to be reminded again? Yet no one had removed them. Maybe there was a glimmer of faith in the fading fabric after all.

He came to a door. Ludwig – Germany, it was best to keep their titles close in mind, keep some hope that they might ever hold those names again – sighed, glanced down at the stolen document he held, and opened the door.

“What news?” Roderich, once Austria, asked as he entered the room.

“I have a map.”

~o~

“His offices.”

“And will this help?” Arthur spoke coolly. He would not allow himself to hope. Not again, not after the shooting that had killed the former Nation's loyal aide and destroyed all chance of a peaceful revolution. The shooting that had proven that they were still immortal even without rank or lands. At least, invulnerable to weapons. The Nations did not like to think of what might happen if the last of their loyal citizens perished.

“Yes. The patrols are listed. Our best chance is near midnight.”

By some glorious turn of fortune, the paper, taken from the desk of the foolish assistant who would ever compile such a thing, showed every security measure. The end of this dark age might be near. Or it could be only another failure. They couldn't survive another failure.

After the takeover, the pain of living without leaders or lands had increased day by day, alarming even Feliks, who had lived in that pain for most of the old millennium. In the beginning, they had fought this pain with all their might – but chaos was of no help. Chaos only led to more fires and more conflicts and more deaths, as more chances of freedom were lost to increasing guards and patrols. The Minister of the Continent would not be taken out by force. 

Arthur took his eyes from the paper at last. “Stealth”, he declared. “Our only chance.” 

~o~ 

Elizabeta crept down the street, looking all around her. The uniform stolen from a guard's suitcase did not fit well, but in the dark there was little chance that would be seen. She glanced at the grand clock in the building's high towers, those high towers of white stone and blue windows, looking so professional by day and so unfeeling at night. She was the only person who could finish the act: the capital lay on what had been her lands. Her opportunity only extended to a few short minutes, and she needed every precious moment.

There was not a sound as she passed the sleepy guards: ironic, considering the magnitude of her quest. But that was not of her concern now, all that mattered was killing the proud, cruel Minister. Nothing else. Nothing else would free her and her kin. 

~o~

The Minister slept quietly. He had always been lazy, resting at times when any benevolent leader would still be awake, still be working. And maybe that was why the advancement of his Continent had been so slow. The Minister refused to give his secrets to anyone. Nobody else could rule the Continent without knowing how he kept the Nations from their rank. And nobody would ever know how he overthrew the proper Nations of Earth. It was better that way. No chance that the nightmare would be repeated sometime in the future, a future that would not be his if Elizabeta succeeded. She readied her gun.

~o~

The Minister woke to the sound of footsteps at his door. Elizabeta saw, for a moment, his cruel, haughty eyes fill with terror. And then, with a sound the dictator knew all too well, he was dead.

The soldiers rushed into the room, but the assassin did not need to fear their loyalties. The room was silent again for a moment as the men recognized her. They were her people now, her people now and again and forever, her people who would never betray her.

Hungary turned her gaze to the window, where in the dark night the clock tower rang out for midnight. The new day. The new world.   


End file.
